Top Stories

Stories in Fiction that you’ll love, handpicked by our team.

The Secretary
Lila was not her name, but it was etched into her nametag in shimmering gold letters. She couldn’t remember when, or how, but at some point she awoke in a white room with no windows and blaring white lights, trapped in an endless loop of speaking to the dead.
By lalita5 years ago in Fiction
Camellias
The net didn’t bother her anymore. She had gotten used to the way the tan mesh obscured her vision and turned the world into an abstract painting. She liked the way it shielded the harsh sun. After a few years of wearing the protective suit, her eyes had become unaccustomed to the vibrant colors of the unshielded world and the bright light of the sun.
By Natalie Spack5 years ago in Fiction
The End
“The human race didn’t end with a shout, it didn’t end in a ball of flames, it ended with barely a whimper. For so long, we had narrowly avoided one extinction event after another. World wars, the threat of nuclear armageddon, and pandemics of global proportions. But the human race had pulled through it all, kicking and screaming, with determination to survive. We’d learnt, we’d progressed, and each disaster brought us more and more technology. Some of it was used for good, but some of it was used to inflict suffering on others, who by accident of birth we didn’t deem our friends.
By EM Green5 years ago in Fiction
Gutterick The Guardian
“A customer?” Sounded a squeaky voice from somewhere in the dark. “How peculiar – Ah, I remember now! You must be the new apprentice, am I right?”
By Ida Stokbaek5 years ago in Fiction
Awaken the Dreaming
The corridors were lined with ancient texts and old oil paintings set in golden frames and crackled shellac. Rich tapestries of silk and wool decorated the floors as ornate carvings protruded from the earthen walls casting shadows and story from the candles that flickered nearby. The air was thick and sweet with a subtle aroma of jasmine and chai spiced tea.
By Donna Raymond5 years ago in Fiction
Peachy
In her complexion there lay a latent rouge which would emerge if she had been running for the train, or he told her she was pretty. In truth, she was very pretty, but she moved slowly and with the languor of a young teenage boy. All her elegance was in her face. Her eyes and brows were dark, and clashed broodingly with an otherwise pale disposition. Her Cupid’s Bow rose aggressively, but with a certain symphonic grace that moved around the rest of her face like a swirling wind. She had it in her to bite with a single look. On other days though, usually when the sun had brought out her freckles and kissed her skin, she would let down her guard and a downy innocence would bashfully emerge, like a peach. He often told her as much, immediately after having paid her some compliment deliberately devised to illuminate her cheeks. ‘Like a peach, that’s soft and sweet the whole way through – no stone’ he would say.
By Jonnie Walker5 years ago in Fiction
The Smoke
“Well, holy Smokes, look at you!” said Dalton, running his fingers through his niece’s hair. “Aren’t you just a princess?”
By Justin5 years ago in Fiction
Queen of Hearts
There was no one left in the city after the blasts. Or so he thought as he continued to scavenge for any remaining food in the area. Where once stood "the greatest city in the world" was now an empty wasteland of what used to be. Buildings that once blocked the sky had become piles at his feet. He only knew survival. He only knew war. He once had peace but he lost that.
By Shannon van Alst5 years ago in Fiction
Turn Out The Lights
She stared at the words scratched into the dirt. She had written them there the night before, scraping with a stick at the soil until they read how she wanted them, the same message she left outside every camp she made just in case. Her name.
By Demi Smith5 years ago in Fiction
She Tried to Claw at The Wall
“A rat in a maze is free to go anywhere, as long as it stays inside the maze.” ― Margaret Atwood, the Handmaid's Tale
By Claire R5 years ago in Fiction
The Cave
I sat in the cave, a shiver ran through me even though it was a warm summers night and I was sitting as close to the fire as I could be without my skin blistering. The skin, it always blisters if you sit too close. I felt tears running down my cheeks, my hand automatically touched my chest where the heart shaped locket lay. I closed my eyes, as I felt the heat of the flames against my face, I could hear the crackle and smell the aroma of meat cooking. I opened my eyes again. There was no meat cooking on the fire. I looked down at the locket around my neck and screamed, all the pain, the memories and the horror, I wanted to purge it from my body. I wanted it to exit from my soul with that scream. It didn't. It never did. How could it? I'd wanted to survive and I had, but I had to do awful things to make sure I did.
By Jaq5 years ago in Fiction
Searching for Mother Moon
Luki had yet to meet another that satisfied her, and so she walked alone across the desert landscape, past the gnarled metal bones of those things her grandmother used to call buildings. “Buildings”, she spit the word out as she walked along, hard to imagine thier crooked spines once reached tall and straight into the sky. She heard her grandmother’s words in her head now, reciting that same old story about the transition between the old time and the new. Before, water had run through pipes, directly into people’s homes! And you could drink it that way, no need to boil first. Luki’s mouth felt dry, and she remembered her own thirst, one of her constant companions, along with alertness and fatigue.
By Maxx Ohm5 years ago in Fiction